


in the blue half-light

by Addison R (beyond_belief)



Series: an effort in a direction [2]
Category: Shetland (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Midsummer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28114314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Addison%20R
Summary: Midsummer seems as good a time as any to sort things out.
Relationships: Duncan Hunter/Jimmy Perez
Series: an effort in a direction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059593
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	in the blue half-light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idareu2bme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idareu2bme/gifts).



> Follows "glass of the sea", AUish of the "Raven Black" series of the show but with added Jimmy/Duncan figuring their stuff out.

"You really are a terrible cook," Duncan says, lifting the lids from the pots Jimmy's got on the stove. "Cassie tried to tell me, but I thought, 'ach, no, Jimmy can't be that bad,' - but I think she was correct."

"Did you come over here and let yourself in just to critique my food?" Jimmy asks evenly. He lifts his gaze from the book he's reading and watches Duncan fish a spoon from the drawer. 

"No, I came to spend Midsummer with the only person I really care to spend it with, but you left yourself open to at least some ridicule with this. What's even in this one?"

Jimmy smiles at Duncan's words. "Soup."

"How do you mess up soup?"

He sets his book aside. "Hey, now."

Duncan only smiles back at him and takes his jacket off, hanging it up. He's got his own hook on the rack now, Jimmy realizes. "I'm sure I can fix it." 

"Knock yourself out," Jimmy replies, gesturing at the stove. He stands and stretches - too long in a less than comfortable chair, he should have sat on the sofa - then goes around the island into the kitchen proper. "Wine?"

"Aye, I'd have a glass." 

He moves around Duncan at the stove - this kitchen isn't all that large - and fetches two clean glasses from the dish drainer. There's a chilled bottle in the icebox; he picked it up especially for tonight, knowing the chances of Duncan arriving uninvited were high. Since Spain Duncan's been coming over more often than not, one nights they're both free, and he hadn't mentioned any of the Midsummer parties. 

He pours, then watches Duncan rifle through the cupboards and take down a few jars of spices. "Is it really as bad as all that?"

Duncan shakes in some things, then stirs the pot and tastes. "Mostly I think you never add enough salt." 

"Mm." Duncan's probably right. Jimmy holds out one of the glasses.

Duncan's fingers brush his as he takes it, and then he squeezes Jimmy's bicep with his free hand. "What time is Cass supposed to be home?"

"Midnight. She's bringing a bunch of friends with her, which is why I thought I'd have something for them to eat."

"They're teenagers, Jimmy. Some crisps would have sufficed." 

"I've a bag in the cupboard," Jimmy replies, as dry as possible. 

Duncan only shakes his head. "I've fixed your soup. Let's take this outside?"

"Aye." He gestures towards the door, grabbing the bottle to bring with him. 

Out in the cool evening, Duncan settles in his usual chair, stretching his legs out in front of him on the stone. Jimmy leans against the wall, watching him for a moment before turning around, his gaze on the water. He likes watching it when the light is dim, where the edge of the sea and the edge of the sky blend together

"You ever think about leaving?" he asks Duncan, not looking away from the water.

"Leaving Shetland? No. Well, maybe when I was a teenager. Don't we all, when we're young?"

Jimmy looks over his shoulder and sees Duncan's got his eyes closed, his face tipped up to the endlessly light sky. This time of year doesn't bother him all that much, maybe because he grew up with it, but he he knows transplants like Tosh have a hard time. Duncan looks like he's been getting close to enough sleep; Jimmy's seen him look worse. 

At the moment, he looks almost entirely relaxed - slumped down in the chair, wineglass cradled between his hands resting on his belly. The sight makes Jimmy smile. 

"What," Duncan says, without opening his eyes. "I can feel it, you know. You looking at me."

Jimmy chuckles. "Nothing bad. Just thinking you look relaxed."

"Relaxed, hmm?" He cracks one eye open for a moment, the corner of his mouth pulling upward. 

"Aye."

"Must be the company." 

Jimmy scoffs lightly at that. At the same time, he registers a feeling like he wants to go over to Duncan and _touch_. A hand on Duncan's arm or shoulder. Maybe the back of his neck. The thought makes Jimmy's fingertips tingle. He takes a swallow from his glass to cover, as though Duncan can read his desires from the flush creeping up his throat. 

It's not the first time Jimmy's thought something like this, but usually it's fleeting, a barely-remembered moment right before he falls asleep, an almost subconscious reminder not to forget how the weight of Duncan's arm draped over his waist made him feel. 

"How's work?" Duncan asks quietly.

Jimmy considers the question. "Fire over in Scalloway."

"Insurance?"

Jimmy chuckles into his glass. "More than likely." 

"It almost always is." 

There's a squeak of the chair a few minutes later as Duncan unfolds himself. He takes the few steps to stand next to Jimmy at the wall, and they both watch the water for a while. Then Jimmy watches Duncan look down at his glass, then over at him, before Duncan says, "I'd like for us to keep working at it. Making things better between us." 

"I'd like that, too," he replies honestly, his mind going once more to drunken Duncan in the hotel room in Spain, slumping warmly against him, the heavy and startling feeling of Ducan's arm crossing his body. He wonders if Duncan remembers. 

"Really?"

"You say that like you're convinced I think you're a terrible person," Jimmy replies, turning his mind from Spain. He nudges his shoulder against Duncan's, then leaves it there, their arms pressed together. He folds his hands around his glass. "I don't, for the record."

Duncan's whole face lights in amusement. "Working overtime here to convince me you think I'm all right." 

"'course I think you're all right." 

They stand there quietly for a while. Jimmy can hear the distant sounds of Midsummer revelers; there are parties all over the islands tonight. It's not an uncomfortable lull, and he's glad that being able to sit together in silence is something that's carried over from the weekend in Spain. 

"I didn't want to move here just so that Cassie could spend more time with you," he says, after he's poured them each another glass. "Or just because the position opened up at the constabulary. 

Duncan gives him a sort of sideways glance. " _You_ wanted to spend more time with me? You, Jimmy?"

"Thought it couldn't hurt to get to know you bit better." Duncan's expression turns slightly incredulous, and Jimmy prods him lightly with an elbow. "Don't need to give me that look." 

Duncan leans against him, a warm line all down Jimmy's side. "No look, I promise," Duncan says, chuckling.

Jimmy reciprocates the move, to see what Duncan might do at the increased contact. But Duncan doesn't lean away, just slowly lays his free hand over Jimmy's and squeezes while he stares fixedly at the water. There's the distant sound of fireworks. 

The silence is still soft and comfortable. Jimmy's always been good at quiet; used to using it to his advantage in his line of work, waiting - just waiting for someone to tell him whatever it is he needs to know. He turns his hand over and curves his fingers around Duncan's. 

"You're waiting for me to say something," Duncan says, when his glass is empty. 

"Aye, for about five minutes now."

Duncan strokes his thumb slowly along Jimmy's. "What's the word for someone you thought you cared for like a brother, but one day you realized you keep thinking about kissing them?" he asks, and Jimmy sees his fixed gaze towards the water hasn't changed.

" _Is_ there a word for that?" He watches Duncan's profile in the simmer dim, thoughts turning towards what kissing him might feel like. 

"Might depend on if the other person feels the same." There's a flush rising in Duncan's cheeks. 

Jimmy leans in, close enough he can feel that warmth, so he can murmur in Duncan's ear. "They do." 

This time the fireworks startle them both. Jimmy catches Duncan's glass before he can drop it, and Duncan clears his throat. "So, uh - what time is Cass supposed to be home?"

*

He leaves his car at the end of Jess Collins' drive, and as he's walking up, sees Duncan's Range Rover parked near the house. Everything looks quiet. Jess answers the door after only a second, her expression going from surprised to concerned. "Hello, Jess," Duncan says, "I'm a wee bit worried about Euan."

"Come in, Inspector, certainly." She steps back.

Jimmy follows her into the house, but doesn't see Duncan. "Is, ah, there someone else here? Didn't mean to break in on company."

"You're not," she says. She gestures towards the kitchen, and Jimmy sees Duncan's shadow. "What will the neighbors say? Two male visitors in one night. Practically a knocking shop."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your evening."

Jess shakes her head, waves a hand towards where Duncan's now approaching, wine glasses in his hands. "Oh, no, no. Duncan just dropped by to see how I was getting on."

"Hi," Jimmy says to Duncan.

Maybe he's imagining it, but there might be a hint of worry on Duncan's face. "Hi." 

Jess is glancing between them. "So, do you two know each other, then?"

Jimmy looks at Duncan and figures he'll leave this one for Duncan to explain. He watches Duncan's face pink slightly as he says, "Well, um… my ex and Jimmy were together for a long time before she passed on. The result of which is that we now share our very lovely and very strong-willed daughter."

That's very correct. Jimmy waits to see what else he'll say. 

"I'm her father, Jimmy's her dad."

Also very correct. And an excellent excuse to get Jimmy out of this awkward place he's put himself in. "Yeah," he confirms. "I should be getting back to her. Good night."

"Jimmy," Duncan says quietly, stopping him at the front door with a firm hand on his elbow. 

Jimmy looks down at it, then back at Duncan. He's not entirely sure he should ask this, or that he truly wants to know the answer, but the question's out before he can stop himself. "What are you doing?"

"What? It's just a glass of wine. She had the bottle in her hand when she opened the door, and asked if I wanted one. I only stopped to see how she was. Honest to God."

"Just a glass of wine," Jimmy repeats. He looks at the wall over Duncan's shoulder for a moment. "That's always how it starts."

It's probably unfair, to say it like that, but the sting he'd felt when he saw Duncan's car parked outside also seems unfair. Duncan's shaking his head. "I swear, Jimmy, even if -" he stops, touches a hand to his mouth, then looks Jimmy straight in the eyes and murmurs, "I thought you and I were trying to sort things out. Were we not on the same page?"

Jimmy holds Duncan's gaze for a moment, long enough for Duncan to lift a brow in question. "I have to run by the station before I go home. We can talk about this later."

"So I'm still welcome to come over."

Jimmy ignores the tiny rush of heat that comes to his face. Whatever they're doing, no matter how platonic it still is at the moment, is enough to fluster him slightly. He whispers, "Oh, go on and drink your wine, I'll see you later," and pretends not to see the shift of amusement on Duncan's face as he leaves.

*

His mind is on the case for the next few hours, and he's grateful for his ability to keep his focus on work, especially when he parks outside the house and sees Duncan's truck already there. Cassie's bedroom window is lit, and the downstairs lights are all on. The door is unlocked, and he goes in to find Duncan poking at something on the stove.

"Cass home?" he asks, and Duncan looks up.

"Aye, up in her room. Just thought I'd make something for you both to eat."

Heart picking up pace, Jimmy leans in slightly, presses a kiss to the corner of Duncan's mouth. He feels Duncan's free hand curve around his hip and squeeze. "Let's do that proper, eh?" Duncan murmurs, and turns his head to kiss Jimmy full on the mouth. 

It's brief, and they both inhale at the same time. Jimmy feels Duncan's laugh more than he hears it. The hand on his hip squeezes again. "Sorry about before," Duncan says. "I know what it looked like. Don't know what I was thinking, honestly, Jimmy."

Jimmy kisses him again, cupping Duncan's jaw in his palm. "Quiet, you."

There's a vague rattle as Duncan drops the wooden spoon he was holding. "Oh - the food - sorry," Duncan mutters, mostly into Jimmy's mouth, before he steps back slightly. His face is flushed and his eyes are bright. 

Jimmy swallows hard. He's a bit surprised by how badly he wants to pull Duncan close again. He moves back a little himself, giving Duncan room to move again by the stove. "What are you making?"

"Some chicken. Surprised I didnae put my elbow in it just now, to be honest with you."

There's the sound of Cassie's feet on the stairs, so Jimmy moves to the other side of the counter. "See, Duncan doesn't think you can cook either, Dad," she says, giving him half a hug before going to investigate the pan. "It's not just me."

"I can cook just fine." 

Duncan snorts and reaches to turn off the burner. "Cass, if you want some, get a plate."

Cassie takes hers back to her room, saying something about an English essay, and they both listen to her footsteps recede. 

Jimmy sits down at the counter as Duncan slides a plate in front of him. "You didn't need to cook," he says, even as he picks up the fork. "I mean just come over for your usual drink and catch-up." 

"You do need to eat, and I know you forget to sometimes, when you're working a case." A wistful sort of look crosses his face. "Fran said that to me once, you know? When I came down to visit. Not long before she went into hospital. It must have been when you were talking about if you'd move back to Shetland, after she - once she was gone." 

Jimmy waits, his hand tight on the fork. Duncan presses his fist to his mouth for a second. "She said I should remind you to eat, if I found you more wrapped up in work than usual." 

Slowly cutting the chicken into pieces gives Jimmy enough time to compose himself. "That sounds like something she'd say," he replies, and curls his hand over Duncan's on the countertop for a moment before starting to eat.

He's aware of Duncan watching him. "What?" he asks, after a few minutes have passed. "Are you afraid if you look away, I'll starve?"

Duncan smiles at that and drums his fingers quickly on the countertop, then turns to fill the kettle for tea.

*

"Thanks for taking Cassie," he says to Duncan, who's standing in the kitchen waiting for their daughter.

"Always a pleasure." Duncan sticks his hands in his jacket pockets. "Hope it works, whatever you're doing."

"Aye, me too. You look tired - midsummer finally getting to you?"

"More like I haven't caught up on sleep since I played poker with Alex Henry and his mates all night the other night." He smothers a yawn in his hand, then smiles sheepishly. "Poor quality malt all around, and I still stayed the whole night. You'd think environmental officers would be the caring type, but they're a bunch of ruthless bastards. And yes, I see the look on your face - I was safe to drive the next morning."

The night before he saw Duncan at Jess Collins'. The night of the murder. "The night Catherine Ross was killed. You were at an all-night poker game with Alex Henry?"

"Aye. And it was a _long_ one. You going to tell me off about gambling now?" The _again_ is clearly implied.

"No, no, not today," Jimmy says, his mind already moving, slotting this new knowledge into his mental map of the case. 

"What is it then?" Duncan asks.

There's a knock on the door before Jimmy can reply; it's Billy, with Magnus. 

"I'll explain later," he murmurs to Duncan, reaching out to squeeze his elbow quickly. "Come in, Billy. Hi, Magnus." 

Cassie comes back in. "Your room," she says pointedly. 

"Aye." He gives her a hug. "Should only be a few days, okay? Have fun at Duncan's." 

"He's teaching me to play poker." She manages to keep a straight face for a second before grinning. Jimmy reaches out to cuff Duncan lightly on the shoulder as they go out the door, before turning his attention to Magnus Bain. 

It takes some time, but he's lucky in that Magnus seems to trust him, despite the old man's previous contact with police. Magnus isn't stupid, but he has been alone a long time. That'll do things to a man. It'll change anyone.

*

"Not Magnus Bain after all, then," Duncan says, pushing a glass into Jimmy's hand.

Jimmy shakes his head. It'll be in the news tomorrow anyway. "Sally Henry."

"Jesus," Duncan breathes. "She's what - Cassie's age?"

Jimmy nods. He tips a good swallow of the whisky down his throat. It's nice. Ducan broke out the expensive bottle tonight, it seems. 

Duncan huffs an incredulous laugh. "Fuck," he says, a rare expletive, and Jimmy nods again. "You okay?"

"It never feels good to arrest a Shetlander, and it never feels good to arrest a child." He thinks again about what he said to Sally in the interview room. _It's really complicated, being close._ He leans his shoulder against Duncan's and sighs. 

"I can't imagine." Duncan turns his head and kisses Jimmy's cheek, then touches his thumb gently to the cut on Jimmy's forehead, brushes over where the corner of one of the pieces of tape is peeling up just a little. "What happens next?"

"She'll be charged," Jimmy answers automatically, "and likely there will be a plea deal of some sort."

"Not with Sally." 

"With us, you mean?" He takes a much slower sip from his glass, then slides his arm around Duncan's lean waist and tucks his fingers up under the edge of Duncan's sweater. "That depends, I suppose."

"On if you can trust me." 

He's not wrong. Jimmy nods, then kisses Duncan's cheek, close to his mouth. Waiting.

"Is it enough if I promise to try?" Duncan asks. He sets his whisky aside, then turns in Jimmy's grip so that they're standing with their arms loose around one another, Jimmy's hand with his glass resting on Duncan's shoulder. Quietly, he says, "I do care about you more than anyone else on the islands, possibly the entire country. Minus our daughter, of course."

Jimmy would be lying, to both himself and to Duncan, if he didn't acknowledge that Duncan's use of _our_ didn't make something vibrate warmly in his chest. He leans in, presses his mouth to Duncan's gently, and Duncan responds immediately, opening his mouth to JImmy's tongue. He tastes like the liquor - no surprise there. 

If a thing could be both comforting and painful at the same time, he thinks, it would probably feel like this. Then Duncan groans into the kiss and his hands clutch tightly, a warm squeeze to Jimmy's ribs. He has to concentrate not to drop his glass down onto the deck. 

It's past eleven now, but the sky is still a swirl of violet. 

"Jimmy, honestly," Duncan groans, his head tipping back as Jimmy kisses down his neck, then rubs his cheek along the hollow of Duncan's neck, where skin meets the soft fabric of his sweater. He feels Duncan's shaky inhale. "Should we - d'you want to - inside?"

He pictures it, both of them undressing in the half-light of the midsummer night sky. "Aye, immediately," he breathes, and Duncan straightens up enough to take the glass from his hand.


End file.
